


Love is Weird

by writerspassion18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Humor, Love, Married Couple, Prank Wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 00:59:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14124711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerspassion18/pseuds/writerspassion18
Summary: After 23 years of marriage, Draco and Hermione have an odd way of saying I love you.





	Love is Weird

For nearly a week Hermione had been waking up every morning in a bed too big for one person. There were fluffy blankets, hypnotizing pillows, and a permanent fresh scent in the air. She always woke up with a stretch, stared at the ceiling for a moment, and thought about her plans for the day before jolting right up in bed. Her eyes would narrow, she'd grab her wand from under her pillow, and aim it all around, looking for the _one thing_ she knew she'd find. It was on the night table next to her that she found it.

A bouquet of roses.

They were an abundant set. Fifty max. Under normal circumstances Hermione would've thought this beautiful. However, she knew who brought these and it was a red flag. So, she slowly got out of bed, her wand raised as she expected something to happen when she moved. Some kind of motion sensor. It wouldn't have been the first time for something (she hated to admit) that clever.

Hermione decided to walk clear across the room to get out of harm's way before pointing her wand at it.

“Bombarda!”

The vase exploded into two dozen pieces and the flowers flew up into the air, falling to the floor in a mesmerizing red heap. Hermione let her wand arm slip to her side and she took a tentative step forward. She let her eyes glance to the side of her bed before settling on the bed itself to the five or so roses that had landed there.

Roses were her favorite flowers. Cliché, yes, but that was why she liked them. They were iconic. Her husband knew that. Hermione let her guard down and she sat on the edge of her bed. She lay directly on one side and swept her hands over the large mattress until her fingers curled around the head of a rose. She brought it to her nose and took a tentative sniff before inhaling more deeply.

That's when she felt it. A tickling, almost burning sensation at the back of her throat. Hermione dropped the rose, sat up, and put her hand to her throat. She coughed to get rid of the feeling, and when she did her eyes widened. “No, he did not…” she breathed as another coughing fit shook her. But then it happened again. Her front teeth had increased in size and had grown longer. “ _He did!_ ”

Hermione grabbed her wand, jumped off the bed, and ran through her bedroom doors. Malfoy Manor was massive. She had been sleeping in a bedroom on the opposite side of the Manor as her husband, but even then her quick stride made it through long corridors, a plethora of turns, pass portraits of ancestors that had to be silenced because they couldn't be removed, and to the West Wing. She was as loud as a hurricane when she reached her husband's bedroom doors and roughly pushed them open.

“Draco Malfoy!” Hermione coughed, her teeth lengthening yet again. “I'm going to keel you!”

Draco had been having the best sleep of his life before being interrupted by his wife's screech. But even then, it gave him great pleasure to have riled her up first thing in the morning. He stretched, taking his time in acknowledging the angry woman in his doorway and cracked open one eye at a time.

Draco grinned and folded his hands behind his head as he stared at her. “Something on your mind, love?”

Hermione coughed and her teeth grew yet again. They had reached her bottom lip now, almost pass it, and Draco had become very nostalgic of his Fourth Year.

“ _Dwaco!_ ”

“A new pet name?” He questioned with a quirk of his brow. “A bit childish, no? I don't want to feel like I'm committing a crime when I sleep with you.”

Hermione groaned and aimed her wand at her husband while pointing to her mouth with her free hand.

“Fwix it! _Now!_ ”

Draco laughed before sitting up and pushing his blankets off of him. “Oh alright, fine.”

Hermione watched him as he got to his feet, but he didn’t immediately come to her aid though. He arched his back. He let his arms rise above his head, his fingers interlocking, as he leaned his body over to the right and then to the left. Hermione coughed again and she became even more enraged as her front teeth finally made it to her chin.

“ _Dwaco! Mwove it!”_ Hermione shouted with a stomp of her foot, the effect completely lost considering the floor was a lush carpet much like that of her own bedroom. The sound had gotten lost in its cushiness. Regardless, Draco looked over at her with a lazy smile before picking up his wand from the night table and giving it a twirl before sauntering over.

Hermione had lowered her wand by the time he made it in front of her and faced him. Draco resembled a Cheshire cat as he stared at his buck-toothed wife and and crossed his arms over his chest, his wand sticking out from his hand.

“Get on wiv it,” she ordered. Once again a blond brow was in the air and that smug smile was making her want to kill him.

“That’s all?” He said with a mock frown. “No, ‘Good morning, Draco?’ ‘How do you feel this morning, Draco?’ Nothing? I’m beginning to think that you don’t love me anymore. Maybe I should leave your teeth exactly-” Draco paused. He felt the pointed tip of his wife’s wand stabbing him in the jugular as she glared at him. With the way her teeth looked and her piercing, menacing eyes, she truly looked predatorial.

“Good morning, Dwaco. How do you veel wiv my vand in your neck this morning, Dwaco?” Hermione echoed his questions. Draco smirked.

“Fine, thank you for asking. Have I told you lately how sexy you look when you want to kill me?”

He felt her press the tip a little more and this time it hurt, so he finally gave in. Draco pushed her arm down, being sure to take her wand and set it on the bed, and raised his own to her mouth so that he could reverse the hex he had put on her roses last night. Her teeth shortened like someone reeling back in a measuring tape until her teeth were properly in their place and their normal size. Hermione sighed with relief while Draco was all bubbles again.

“Can I get a proper good morning now, please?”

“Annoying little arse,”

“Now, now, Hermione,” Draco teased with a tap on her nose. “That wasn't very nice. I said ‘please.’”

Hermione grumbled yet again, but this time she wasn't angry. She stared into the very joyful face of her husband before sighing deeply and succumbing to a smile of her own and kissing him. It was how they had said good morning for the past twenty-three years and this was no exception.

Hermione gently pulled away from him, her arms having made their way around his neck, and quickly analyzed him. At forty-eight Draco didn't have a wrinkle in sight save the little crows feet around at the corner of his eyes. Not that anyone would really notice them. His eyes were far too bright and provided ample distraction. He also had a grey hair or two, but again, not that anyone could tell. His hair was fair enough in color as it was. Lucky toad…

Shaking her head, Hermione ran a hand through his bed head and grinned. “To this day I still have no idea why I married you.”

“I'm convinced you liked the torture of my presence and creative sex.”

“Oh, well, yes since you put it _that_ way.”

Draco smirked. “Shall we have breakfast now?”

“I suppose we- Draco! Stop! Merlin, I _hate_ it when you carry me like this!”

“You do, I don’t,” Draco replied merrily. “Gives me easy access to your arse all the way the kitchen.”

He slid his hand over it for good measure and Hermione was equally aroused by and irritated with him. Draco, as he so often did, had lifted her off of the floor to carry her away. Of course, it wasn't in any chivalrous, knight-in-shining armor kind of way. No. He had slung her over his shoulder, arse near his head, and was carting her through the Manor like luggage. It drove her insane.

It took several minutes to finally make it to the kitchen, a room that had once only been accessible to house elves, but now one that the couple frequented themselves. It had been a ten year struggle to finally get Draco to agree to free the house elves, but it was done. It was another five years that he finally admitted Hermione's cooking was “maybe a bit better” than a house elf's.

“There you are.” Draco set his wife down on her feet right next to the kitchen counter. “You should be happy. What woman gets door to door service every day?”

Hermione stared at him with a brown brow high on her head and her arms crossed over chest. Draco tilted his head.

“Is it just me or did your breasts get larger?”

“My arms are crossed,” Hermione reminded. She also let them fall to her hips and let her lips turn upward as she added, “Also, new negligee. They treat the girls pretty well, if I don’t say so myself.”

Draco’s cursory glance now became full-on ogling as he realized that, yes, his wife was wearing something new. A shade just above navy blue, it was silk and stopped mid-thigh. And, as he just realized and his wife just confirmed, it performed gravity-defying acrobatics on her breasts and made them higher and fuller than they normally were. How they were held up by two thin straps was beyond him.

“Damn it, Hermione,” Draco swore. “You’re not supposed to wear anything new when I’m on punishment.”

At that Hermione laughed and folded her arms under her breasts for sport. “Love, this _is_ the punishment. Now, what do you want for breakfast?”

“You, you teasing bint,” Draco mumbled. 

Hermione didn’t hear him because she had already begun pulling things from the cabinets and the refrigerator to make them something to eat. Normally he’d be wary about her doing something to his food and today was no exception. Last week he had cast a hex on her clothes so that they all shrunk to her touch (which was why he’d been banished from their bedroom for a week since he “couldn’t be trusted”). As a consequence, she had cursed his soap so that he turned a hideous shade of green. The roses were Draco’s retaliation on that, and now, despite what Hermione said about her choice in nightwear, he was expecting something else. Not right at this moment, however. It was far too quick to plan. And so, Draco sat at the kitchen counter and half paid attention to the culinary magic his wife was making. His attention was completely gone when an owl swooped in and dropped the Daily Prophet and an assortment of letters on the table.

Hermione quite enjoyed when her husband was distracted when she was cooking. She could avoid the “You could do it faster if…” comments and indulge in her muggle habits in peace. It also made it easier to slip something onto his portion of breakfast before sliding his plate to him along with his tea.

“Hmm,” Draco mused as he stared at the meal that reached the plate’s edges. “My favorite breakfast.” He looked up with suspicion in his eyes and narrowed them. “Should I be worried?”

“What?” Hermione replied innocently. “You can't eat well?”

Draco looked down at his food. His wife's tone of voice was worrisome and now he regretted being so lax this morning. The longer he sat there Hermione rolled her eyes, picked up her fork, and ate a bit of his food.

“See? It's not poison. Besides, what would I do if you died?”

“Nothing,” Draco scoffed, picking up his utensils. “I'd haunt you until the day that _you_ died and joined me.”

“Typical,” Hermione tutted. “A pest alive, a pest in death.”

Draco grinned at that and finally began to eat. Hermione sat next to him and dug into her food as well. She glanced at her husband from time to time and noted the few times that he cleared his throat. Eventually he took a sip of his tea, and that's when she smiled on the inside.

“Was there anything good in the mail, Draco?”

“Not really.”

Hermione fell into hysterics right then and there. Draco, on the other hand, had his brows scrunched together because what had just come out of his mouth were _not_ words. He turned to Hermione again and tried to speak. In lieu of syllables it was some sort of squeaking and squawking hybrid.

“You know,” Hermione began with all sorts of delight living in her features, “I've never heard what a ferret sounds like until now. Thank you so much for demonstrating.”

Draco's eyes went wide and he opened his mouth, a barrage of ”Are you kidding me?,” “How in the hell?,” and “Fix my voice!” tumbling pass his lips, but all Hermione could hear were high pitched squeaks that became louder the more irate he became. Now it was _she_ that resembled a Cheshire cat as she propped her head up on the counter with one arm.

“Would you like me to fix your voice now?”

Draco gave up on speaking and nodded vigorously. Hermione's other arm joined the table, both hands cupping her face.

“I'll need you to say please.”

Draco wordlessly groaned and glared hard enough to kill. Hermione was unfazed and even smiled harder.

“There are tons of ways to say ‘please’ without actually using the word,” she giggled and sat up properly so that she could count on her fingers. “There’s sign language. You could grab a quill and write it. Oh, you could mime! I’d actually love to see you mime.”

Draco was drumming his fingers on the countertop and growling at this point. She wanted to play mean, then very well. He pulled out his wand from the pocket of his pants and waved it in the air. It was a good thing that he was good at non-verbal spells. Two things floated into the kitchen and landed neatly on the table. A self-inking quill and the first edition of a rare book he had once gifted her for Christmas. She wanted him to write out his begging? Well, so be it.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, don’t even _think_ about it!” Hermione shouted as Draco flipped open the first page. He side-glanced at her and she swore that he had the face of satan as he raised the quill. “Come on, you know this isn’t fair! Ink hardly comes out as well as you think it would even with the best spells!”

Draco let the quill hover as he stared her in the face. The standoff lasted no more than three seconds before Hermione huffed loudly. She stuck three fingers between her breasts and pulled out a tiny vial and handed it to him.

“Here. Drink this and you’ll be fine.”

Draco snatched it eagerly and drank its content in a small gulp. He gave a tentative sigh, said his name once or twice in the air before he addressed his wife. “You’re a terrible woman.”

“ _I’m_ terrible? You nearly destroyed a first edition!”

“Oh, you know good and well that I wouldn’t have actually done it,” Draco waved lazily. “Besides,” he added with a crooked grin, “if I had known the antidote was sitting in my second favorite place I would’ve searched you for it.”

“You’re more than welcome to search me anyway,” Hermione invited with a shrug. She leaned back against the kitchen counter and smuggly buffed her nails on her negligee. “There’s a backup plan on me somewhere in case the first one didn’t work out.”

Draco tilted his head nearly ninety-degrees. “Well, I guess that settles it. We’re going to have to defile the kitchen.”

Hermione unattractively squeaked as Draco hoisted her up by the hips to set her on the counter. Draco was a mixture of lust and amusement as his eyes roamed all of her as though determining where to prod and probe first. He was two seconds away from lifting the bottom of her negligee before a cry pierced the room.

“Children are home! Children are home!” Scorpius all but yelled as he shielded his eyes. Draco and Hermione looked to the kitchen’s doorway to find both their son and daughter quite red in the face.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. “Scorpius, you and Lyra are twenty-one.”

“Fine, _your_ children are home. Just...distance yourselves for the love of Merlin.”

Hermione looked down at Draco and kissed him on the forehead. “Looks like playtime’s over.”

Scorpius shivered at that and finally put his hands down in time to see his father helping her off the counter. His twin sister swallowed as she gazed at the pair.

“I don’t remember either of you being so... _loving_ when we lived at home,” Lyra remarked as she eyed her mother’s nightwear.

“Big Manor,” Draco chuckled. “Besides, you were at Hogwarts most of the time. How would you know?”

Lyra blanched. “Ew.”

“So!” Hermione said loudly to distract them all. “You both came by to visit. Breakfast, I imagine?”

“Yeah, but you kind of ruined the appetite a bit,” Scorpius answered bashfully. “We’ll come back and get you for lunch or something, right Lyra?”

“Absolutely _._ We’ll be back around one. _Be dressed,_ ” Lyra added before taking her brother’s arm and leading them away from the horror show. They weren’t too far when they heard their parents doubled over in laughter. It was a shame they weren’t far enough to avoid hearing,

_“Can we defile the kitchen now?”_

Lyra could’ve gagged right then. Instead she turned to her brother. “I’ll give you twenty galleons to cut my ears off.”

“Only if you gouge out my eyes right after,” Scorpius countered. Lyra nodded as they both headed to the fireplace to head back home to the flat they shared.

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Hope you were able to get a chuckle out of it :)
> 
> -WP


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